


Call the Midwitch

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childbirth, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Ada Montgomery is an ambitious, dedicated young midwitch, and it's her greatest pride and joy to bring new little witches and wizards into the world. Naturally she always keeps patient confidentiality, but for some couples need even more privacy than others.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344409
Comments: 50
Kudos: 257





	1. Mr and Ms Potter

She had always loved babies. She loved how much potential they had - you couldn’t help but marvel and wonder when you looked at a baby. They could grow up to be all sorts of people, they would do all sorts of things. And when Ada was dead and gone, she knew that the babies she delivered would continue going about their lives, doing things that were so far in the future that she perhaps couldn’t imagine them, never really thinking about her, but she didn’t mind. Each baby seemed, to her, to be like a little taste of adventure. Most deliveries were much the same - each with their own quirks and nuances, of course, but at the end of the day the basics repeated in an ancient rhythm. But each baby - well, you could follow each baby and get entirely different stories, entire lives twisting and turning and heading off on their own great adventure, each one unique. 

But for the brief time that Ada knew those babies, all of that was a great mystery. She saw countless parents look down into their little bundled mysteries and astound themselves with the sudden swell of deep and fierce love. The parents would get to see those mysteries unravel, would follow the journies, for a time. Ada just saw them all off, and was left to wonder. She didn’t mind. It was a privilege to see them start. 

She had been a midwitch for a few years now, though she was still, in comparison to some of the other witches and wizards she worked with, woefully inexperienced. Her face was not yet lined with age, her back did not ache as she contorted herself into strange positions to help her witches, and she still had the odd experience of bumping into old classmates, and realising she would likely be the one to deliver their baby. It was why she was so surprised when she was assigned to a particular couple. 

Head Midwitch Irene Hebditch called her into her office one Tuesday afternoon, and offered her a cup of tea and a shortbread bat. Convinced that she was about to be laid off, or informed that she had made some sort of terrible mistake and there would be an inquiry, Ada sat quietly, and waited for Irene’s broad and sometimes stern looking (though anyone could see there was a heart of gold underneath), to speak first. 

‘I have a couple to assign,’ Irene began, ‘but the circumstances require delicacy, sensitivity and, above all else, discretion.’ 

‘Oh,’ said Ada, who thought that all her couples deserved (and received) that. ‘More than usual?’ 

Never one to beat around the bush, Irene nodded and continued. ‘Both expectant parents are high profile, the father especially so. It is their first child, and there is likely to be significant media attention.’

‘Oh, I see!’ said Ada, with some relief. ‘Well, we managed with Melody Malkin, I’m sure there won’t be-’

‘I am afraid,’ said Irene, with slightly raised eyebrows, ‘that we can expectant significantly more fuss than the handful of reporters who enquired after Melody Malkin.’ She looked very closely at Ada, and hesitated slightly. ‘I have selected you - not only because you are a talented midwitch, because I do not think you will be offended when I tell you that there are others with more experience - but because having spoken to the couple for some time I thought that you might best get along with them. That the personalities might fit better than with others.’ 

Ada frowned, and chewed on her biscuit slowly. It was most like Irene, who brusquely told them that half their job was being likable and an instant friend to the witches that came through the door, no matter what they were like, to take such a thing into consideration. ‘In what way?’ she asked. ‘Who is this couple?’

‘The father is nervous,’ said Irene bluntly, ‘and I think both he and the mother would appreciate someone with a good sense of humour and a cheerful demeanour. Someone unflappable, but warm.’ 

Ada nodded. She knew better by now to bother with false modesty around Irene. ‘Well, that’s fine, I have some capacity, I think, Mrs Boreham is due next month.’ 

‘Good,’ said Irene. ‘But before I can tell you the couple’s names, I must ask you to fill out some paperwork. It has been requested by them.’ 

She pushed some official looking documents across the desk, and Ada set down her mug of tea and laughed slightly as she took them. ‘Goodness!’ she said. ‘A non-disclosure agreement? Surely it’s all covered by patient confidentiality?’ 

‘In this particular case, the couple is particularly concerned with privacy,’ said Irene. ‘Particularly the father.’ 

She looked up at Irene with a slightly amused smile. ‘When you said he was nervous…?’ 

‘Oh!’ said Irene, eyes widening in alarm. ‘There’s nothing scandalous! No, no, all above board, it’s just that….’ Irene seemed to take a breath, mulling over her thoughts, choosing her next words very carefully. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t describe himself as nervous. He may not even realise he is nervous. He’s simply one of those father’s who…’ 

‘Asks lots of questions and is convinced everything is going to go wrong?’ asked Ada primly. 

‘Quite. In any case, the concern over privacy is - well, you’ll understand why at once, I think, and I don’t have any concerns over that anyway but… yes, while the mother is quite relaxed, I did rather think that the father needed someone who would be… well, like you.’ 

Ada smiled, picked up the quill, and happily signed her name on the contract, feeling a little bubble of excitement swell as she imagined who they might be. Melody Malkin had been so glamorous, and though naturally Ada had not indulged the press that had come round searching for details, nor had she gossiped with any of her friends, she couldn’t deny that it felt dizzying and golden to get to know someone so famous, to see her at her most emotional, her happiest day. 

She handed the contract back to Irene and beamed at her. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense much longer, I can hardly stand it - who is it? Singers? Quidditch players? Politicians?’ 

‘Mr and Ms Potter,’ said Irene quietly. 

Ada’s smile seemed to freeze on her face. ‘What?’ she said eventually. ‘As in…?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

Ada opened her mouth, but she was not quite sure what to say. This was beyond fame - beyond fleeting articles in the Prophet or special edition chocolate frog cards or wireless interviews or posing on the front cover of magazines. This was legendary importance, living historical figures. There was something eternal about them, about him in particular - simply thinking of his name felt faintly ridiculous. 

She gave another slightly awkward little chuckle. ‘You may as well have told me that my patient is Merlin!’ 

To her surprise, Irene’s mouth twitched. ‘Do you need more time to adjust to the idea? Or would you be prepared to meet them now?’ 

‘Now?’ she exclaimed. ‘They’re here?’ She looked around, as though expecting to see them. 

‘They’re in Room 3, yes,’ said Irene. ‘They are prepared to wait, or come back another day if necessary - they said that they understand it may be difficult to find the right person.’ 

She was not sure what Irene meant by this at first, for surely anyone would have leapt at the chance, but she realised far later, once she got to know the Potters, that they had probably wanted someone who did show a little consideration - who didn’t leap at the chance. 

‘Let me finish my tea first,’ she said. Irene nodded, and nudged the biscuit tin towards her to take another bat. 

Ten minutes later, heart thudding but trying her best to look composed, Ada followed Irene down the brightly lit corridors of St Mungos. It had been easy to be breezy and casual with Melody Malkin, even if inside she was bubbling with excitement, but this felt very different. She wanted so badly to hide it though, to give the Potters the very normal experience all her other couples had. 

Irene opened the door, and the first thing Ada saw was a shock of bright red hair. Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny Potter was sitting casually on the bed, swinging her legs over the side, laughter dying happily away in her throat as she heard them enter. She was shorter than Ada had expected, but just as striking looking as she had always seemed in the pages of Witch Weekly. Ada had never managed to get her hair look so effortlessly sleek like that - she’d even tried dyeing it red once, but it just hadn’t looked right. Yet she wasn’t beautiful in an intimidating way, like Melody had been (though once she got to know her, Melody’s beauty hadn’t been intimidating at all). Ginny Potter was beautiful in a girl-next-door sort of way - friendly and warm and like you would look prettier just for standing beside her. 

‘Ms Potter, Mr Potter,’ said Irene pleasantly, ‘this is Midwitch Ada Montgomery, who will be looking after you throughout the pregnancy. I will leave you all to get settled.’ 

She left swiftly, and it was only as she did so that Ada suddenly noticed the man in the corner, turn from the board with all the photos of babies and staff pictures, to look at her. 

There he was. Harry Potter. She was not sure that she had ever fully accepted that he was a real person. Just as she had been surprised that Ginny Potter was short, she found that he was taller than she expected, and handsomer too - there was something more relaxed about his face in real life that when she had seen it in the papers or magazines, when it always seemed grim and serious and, quite frankly, cold. But he smiled at her in a friendly way, his hands buried in his pockets as he lazily wandered away from the photos, and she was struck, very intently, by how piercing his eyes were - as though they could see straight through you and read you like a book. 

‘I hope you didn’t hear us as you came in,’ he said sheepishly.

‘We were searching for the weirdest looking baby,’ said Ginny Potter apologetically, though she was clearly still trying to stifle giggles. 

‘Oh, not to worry - I think that’s the first thing everyone does,’ said Ada. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you both - and congratulations on your happy news.’ 

‘Harry,’ said Harry Potter, completely unnecessarily as he shook her hand. Now that he was close enough, just below the dark, messy hair that fell onto his forehead, she could see the jagged outline of the scar. She forced herself not to look at it. 

Ginny introduced herself too, and Ada magicked up chairs for herself and Harry, before summoning tea and a large lever arch file. ‘Now, first things first - I can assure you that Irene has emphasised how important privacy is to you both, and I can assure you that it won’t be a problem here.’ 

Ginny Potter nodded, but Harry Potter still looked uneasy. ‘They can be… They’re not above quite underhanded tactics, you know, including spying-’

‘I assure you, Mr Potter, no one need know I am working with the pair of you besides the three of us and Irene,’ she said. ‘And everything else can be done at your home - I can come and visit you, you could have the baby there.’ 

‘Yes,’ he said, with a sort of rushing relief in his voice. ‘Yes, that’s what we - we hoped-’

‘I told you that was normal,’ Ginny told him reassuringly, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder. She looked at Ada with a slightly exasperated expression. ‘Apparently lots of muggles have babies in hospitals, even when there’s nothing wrong.’ 

‘Oh, yes, we get that a lot with our muggleborn parents,’ said Ada. ‘It is possible, if you wanted, but I think in this case with the privacy required…’

‘Yes,’ said Ginny firmly. ‘And if it would be possible for home visits rather than appointments here, that would be ideal.’ 

‘Of course. With that in mind, I suppose I should put some other name on your file.’ 

‘We’ve already thought of that,’ said Ginny Potter, a slight smirk on her face. ‘This isn’t our first hippogriff rodeo, we’re well used to going undercover. We’re happy to be Mr and Mrs Evans.’ 

‘Lovely,’ said Ada, writing it on the spine of the lever arch. ‘And first names? You can pick anything you want, you know, now could be the time to get creative.’ 

‘Oooh,’ said Ginny Potter with a slight hiss. Harry Potter was grinning knowingly at her. ‘I think I would like to be a Mrs Waynetta Evans, and I think Harry can be… Elvendork. Elvendork Evans.’ 

‘I knew you were going to say that,’ he said, with slight exasperation. 

She liked them. She knew immediately. She liked nearly all of her couples, but some took longer than others. But she liked how surprisingly easy going they were, even if Mr Potter still seemed a little guarded. She thought that was reasonable. He was quite a private man. When it came to working out the due date, Ginny Potter had immediately said, ‘we went out for dinner with friends for Harry’s birthday and drank far too much red wine. It must have been then because I’m usually very good with the potion.’ 

In response, Harry Potter had gone rather red and had simply muttered, ‘end of July.’ 

He was, too,as nervous as Irene had warned her, but Ada immediately realised that Irene had been right - that he didn’t seem to be aware of how nervous he was. His questions were not panicked or fearful, there was no emotional outburst or wringing hands, but there was no denying that there were a lot of them. Which foods does Ginny need to be avoiding? She was drinking before we knew, will that cause problems? Do most pregnancies continue once they reach this stage? How will we know if something’s going wrong? What sort of things can go wrong? 

She answered them all, calmly and brightly and without condescension or patronising reassurance. At one point, she thought she saw Ginny Potter smiling gratefully at her, and then turn to her husband. ‘You don’t need to be so doom and gloom about it, you know.’ 

‘I’m not!’ he said, looking genuinely surprised.

Ginny simply laughed, and looked back at Ada. ‘How big is the baby? Right now?’ 

‘About the size of a snitch,’ Ada said. Harry’s eyebrows raised, and he smiled broadly - he looked entirely different than Ada had ever seen him at all. 

‘Really?’ he said. 

She smiled at him, and reached into her canvas bag, pulling out a brass coloured pinard horn. ‘If you wouldn’t mind leaning back, Mrs Potter,’ she said. 

Ginny gave Harry an excited look, and lay back on the bed - he shuffled his seat closer. With a wave of her wand, the horn floated and settled onto her, still rather flat, stomach, and within seconds the room was filled with a rapid little thumping. 

‘There you are,’ said Ada briskly. ‘Sounds perfectly healthy to me.’ 

Ginny was beaming up at her, and then her eyes flicked down. ‘You all right?’ she asked. 

Harry Potter was holding her hand, blinking rapidly as he stared at the little brass horn, like a little shiny flag over her stomach. ‘Yes,’ he said, slightly hoarsely. His fingers curled around her hand further - he was gripping her hand tightly. 

He looked up at Ada. ‘And that’s normal? For it to be that fast?’ 

‘Perfectly,’ she assured him. ‘It’s my job to worry about things like that, Mr Potter, you just concentrate on getting the nursery set up.’ 

He nodded, and then grinned at his wife. 

‘Can’t quite believe it?’ she asked him, a little dryly. 

‘Not quite,’ he said. 

All in all, thought Ada, once the appointment had come to an end and the Potters had left, she had liked them very much. She was not really sure what she had expected of war heroes - whether she had perhaps thought they would start weeping in the room, perhaps, or whether they might have seemed far older than their years. But really, she thought, all that mystery of theirs wasn’t what interested her. She was far more excited for the little mystery they were carrying, and how much they loved it already, and what sort of journey they might lead it on. 

She put the folder on the large shelf in the tiny little office for all the midwitches. She half expected someone to ask her about it, to say ‘ooh, who are Mr and Mrs Evans?’ But of course they didn’t, and when Leonie asked her how her day was going, all she did was huff and say, ‘ooh, I could murder a cup of tea and slice of cake, you know.’


	2. Mr and Mrs Granger-Weasley

Referrals were common in their line of work. Word of mouth went far, and people were very particular. After all, as Healer Hebditch always said, ‘if there was a spell that could do it for us, people would still want a friendly midwitch to cast it for them and be there while it worked.’

‘Friends recommended you to us,’ said Mrs Granger-Weasley. ‘The Potters.’

Ada smiled and nodded. ‘And how is little James? I loved the photo they released for his birthday.’

‘He’s a little terror,’ said Mr Weasley fondly. ‘Can we order one that’s a bit calmer? Bit less… climbing on everything in sight and running away with wands?’

Ada laughed. ‘I’ll do what I can, but I’m afraid it might be out of my hands. Now,’ she said briskly, looking back at Mrs Granger-Weasley. ‘When was the end of your last cycle?’

Most witches didn’t have a clue, or could only vaguely say ‘ooh, about…’, but Hermione Granger Weasley pulled out a diary at once. ‘I’ve already calculated all that,’ she said, flicking through the pages. ‘Here, this is when I started my last period and this is when it finished - I noted down the symptoms - and this week is when I believe I was ovulating; I’ve been taking my temperature every day. These marks show when we had intercourse-’

‘My wife has this all planned out,’ said Mr Weasley, rather amused warning in his voice.

Indeed she did; they were one of Ada’s easiest couples she could remember. Every time she saw them, Mrs Granger-Weasley had read several more books on the matter and knew exactly what to expect at each appointment and which questions to ask. Mr Weasley was relaxed; confident without arrogance or dismissiveness. Ada could tell he was very much enjoying the whole experience, giving his wife the control she needed and sitting back to listen happily.

She worried, after a few appointments, that he was too quiet. ‘Do you have any questions, Mr Weasley?’ she asked him.

‘As long as it comes out healthy, I’m fine,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It’s the stuff after I’ve been worrying about - Harry gave me a load of books on child development and when to introduce certain foods and how to deal with accidental magic and how to spot the early signs of dragon pox and all of that.’

The only time they seemed to disagree was as the big day approached, and they discussed pain relief in labour.

‘Breathing and massage is not going to make it less bloody painful, Ron,’ she snapped irritably. ‘I want all the potions available,’ she told Ada firmly. ‘I made a list, here-’

‘Ginny said she had a really amazing experience-’

‘Good for bloody Ginny!’ 

‘We could use certain breathing exercises and massage techniques on top of pain control,’ said Ada soothingly. ‘It doesn’t have to be one or the other.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘but one of the books I read told me to imagine my vagina opening like a flower - it’s not funny, Ron!’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘I think you’re referring to A Wise Wytch’s Guide to Magical Beginnings,’ said Ada.

‘Yes - that book! What a load of woolly rubbish! No offence,’ she added quickly, though it did not seem to stop her tearing it down at full speed, ‘but I really think the priorities are all wrong, I don’t think I need to suffer more than necessary for it to be a meaningful experience - and, really, the priority should be the safety of mother and baby, not the beauty of an ancient ritual between woman and child or whatever it was blathering on about.’

‘But aren’t you worried you’ll miss your vagina being all flowery, Hermione?’ asked Mr Weasley, with a hand gesture that caused Ada to struggle not to giggle at.

‘No, I’m not,’ she said coldly. ‘I’d rather not convince myself it can all be thought away, I just want it over with.’

She was nervous, Ada realised, about the pain, and yet so was Mr Weasley. This was unusual; he had been more than happy to sit back until now, let her make the decisions, and yet suddenly now he seemed invested in her birth plan.

‘I’m not saying don’t take all that, but you might as well try some of the hippy stuff with me - it’ll be a laugh. Like the old days in divination, eh? You found that painful, but you got through it - childbirth will be the same, except this time you’ll be high as a kite while you huff and puff.’

‘Personally, I don’t follow the instructions in the Wise Wytch book,’ said Ada, as Hermione glared furiously at her husband. ‘There’s a broad spectrum, and that book is at one end - there are more solid approaches to breathing and pressure points we could try, in combination with magical pain relief.’

‘There you go,’ said Mr Weasley grandly, patting his wife on the back. ‘If we replace the hippy words with logical words, will that make you consider giving it a go?’

‘It just feels like a waste of time,’ she muttered. ‘When I know I’m having the potions and charms anyway - there’s not going to be much pain, so why bother-’

‘I think it’s important to always expect the unexpected,’ said Ada cautiously. ‘There’s no harm in being prepared for every eventuality - labour rarely goes according to plan.’

‘I’m very prepared,’ she said tensely. ‘I have a birth plan, with two back up plans as well, I understand that it probably won’t go perfectly, but I’m aware of all the things that could happen, I’ve read all about it - I really don’t think learning to breathe will make that any better. I already know how to breathe.’

‘Not sure about that,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘Sometimes you talk so fast I’m pretty sure you’ve forgotten. Like just now.’

‘Oh, shut up, Ron.’

‘Look - I’m just saying, listen to Ada, it can’t hurt to learn - I mean, what if the potions don’t take? That can happen, for some people, can’t it?’

‘It’s very unusual, Mr Weasley,’ said Ada sympathetically, ‘and there is the charm-’

‘Then I’ll just deal with it, Ron - I mean, your mother did it seven times, so it can’t be that catastrophic-

‘Yeah, and she also learned all this breathing and stuff you think is nonsense!’ he argued. ‘It’s got some worth, Hermione, you might as well give it a go! Come on - just as a backup, at least?’

‘Hermione,’ said Ada, doing her best to mimic Healer Hebditch’s most reassuring voice, ‘I promise you, all the potions and charms I can offer will still be there. Think of this as the cherry on the cake.’

‘Fine,’ muttered Mrs Granger-Weasley. ‘But I don’t want that book involved at all - it also described my vagina as a cave to explore.’

‘That’s how we got pregnant, wasn’t it?’ said Mr Weasley, with a wink to his wife. She pursed her lips, her arms tightly folded. 

Even so, she reluctantly agreed, sitting grumpily between her husband’s legs as Ada taught him where to massage and all the breathing techniques and how to think of the contractions as a pressure rather than a pain. Hermione snorted at this, but Ron said, ‘ssh! Won’t matter to you, anyway, you’ll be doolally on potions. I want to learn this to deal with the pressure in my balls next time one of the kids runs at me head first.’

‘It’s not equivalent!’ Hermione snapped. ‘Stop making out that it’s the same, you drive me up the wall, it’s not the same!’

‘Well no one ever offers me a numbing charm, do they, Harry just laughs at me-’

‘And as the contraction starts to peak,’ said Ada loudly over their squabbling, ‘we will take nice light breaths through the mouth…’

When the big day finally arrived, it did so extremely slowly. Ada had been there for several hours already, and was fairly sure she would be there for several more.

‘I thought these potions and spells and things were supposed to stop all the pain?’ Ron said, his arms around his wife, who was groaning, low and deep, through another contraction.

‘They minimise it, as best we can manage,’ said Ada distractedly. She looked up from between Mrs Granger-Weasley’s legs. ‘Slow moving, I’m afraid, Hermione.’

‘What?’ she gasped, her face creasing in disappointment. ‘I’m not close yet?’

‘We’ll be here a little while longer, I think. It’s all right, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘When can you put the charm on me?’

‘She’s in pain - can’t you do it now?’ Mr Weasley demanded.

‘A little while longer - let’s get up, try and move around, see if that hurries things along…’

So, they paced the room, sat her on an exercise ball, let her moan and grimace and knock back more pain relief potion as more contractions came, ever so slowly.

‘OK, back to the bed - however you feel comfortable, Hermione.’

‘I don’t feel bloody comfortable at all,’ she snapped, and Ada smiled and shook her head at Mr Weasley’s apologetic grimace.

Hermione groaned again, almost at a sob, slumping into her husband’s arms. ‘Would you like more potion?’ Ada asked.

‘Please,’ she said. Her eyes were drooping, her head was lolling slightly as Mr Weasley supported her. She groaned again, but then her voice was floaty and dreamy. ‘It hurts a lot.’

‘It’s all right,’ Mr Weasley said to her hoarsely, rubbing her back as Ada had shown him a few weeks prior.

‘Are you all right, Mr Weasley?’ Ada asked sharply, for he was looking rather pale beneath his freckles, and holding her tightly.

‘Yes,’ he said gruffly. ‘Course.’ He took a shuddering breath, and continued to rub Hermione’s back. ‘You’re doing well,’ he said. ‘Breathe through it.’

She groaned, long and low and loud, her chin tucked to her chest. Her hair fell in front of her red face, and Ron pulled it back, smoothing it down with trembling hands.

‘Can’t you give her anything else for the pain?’ he blurted out suddenly.

Ada looked at him carefully. ‘We’re not ready for the final spell yet, but after that, all will be fine, Mr Weasley.’

‘Right, but this - this doesn’t feel normal, I mean she’s in a lot of pain and she’s already-’

‘I’m fine, Ron,’ Hermione weakly.

‘It’ll be over soon,’ he told her fiercely. ‘You’re doing so well.’

Yet more time passed, Mrs Granger-Weasley now so spacey that Ada no longer felt comfortable giving her further potions. She was looking blearily up at her husband. ‘You did this to me,’ she slurred.

‘I think we did it together, love,’ he replied.

‘Yes… but… you…. with your face… ‘n your freckles.’ She groaned again, but then burst into giggles.

Usually, this kind of dreamy silliness was regarded as good fun. Husbands and boyfriends often grinned over their partners at Ada and said something like, ‘can you leave some of that potion here?’ or, ‘can I have a go after her?’

But Mr Weasley looked unsettled, even a little afraid. ‘Is her brain addled?’ he asked.

‘Of course not, Mr Weasley,’ said Ada. ‘This is a side effect of the potion, we discussed it, remember? Everything’s fine.’

He nodded solemnly, still rubbing his wife’s back as he frowned down at her in utter concern.

‘Mr Weasley,’ Ada prompted gently. He looked up at her, and she tried not to show the shock on her face as she saw his blue eyes shining. ‘This is very normal,’ she said quietly, as Hermione groaned between them.

He nodded rapidly, she could see him gulping. ‘Yeah, yeah I know - it’s just-’

‘It can be hard to see our loved ones in pain,’ she said soothingly. ‘But I promise you the potions are doing their job, and she’ll have the charm for the worst of it.’

‘Yeah, but how much longer?’ he asked. ‘How much longer does she have to go through this?’

Ada checked Mrs Granger-Weasley again, frowning slightly. ‘A while longer, I’m afraid. Baby’s taking their time.’

‘Lazy baby,’ said Mrs Granger-Weasley, giggling up at Ron. ‘Takes after you.’

Mr Weasley’s mouth twitched, almost into a smile, but he kissed her forehead, and closed his eyes as he did so.

‘Does it usually take this long?’ he asked. ‘In one of the books I read, it said labour usually lasts about eight hours, but it’s been twelve and-’

‘Mr Weasley, I’m not at all concerned. Why don’t you go and make yourself a cup of tea?’

‘No - no, I’m not leaving her, not while she’s in pain,’ he muttered; he looked quite frantic. He looked down at her, grasping her hand. ‘You hear? I’m not going anywhere.’

‘I know you’re not,’ said Mrs Granger-Weasley. ‘Not after last time.’ Despite her condition, she raised a fist and smirked at Ada. ‘Punched him,’ she said.

Mr Weasley laughed. ‘Served me right.’

‘Sounds like he’d do all this for you if he could,’ Ada told Mrs Granger-Weasley warmly.

Mrs Granger-Weasley grinned up at Mr Weasley, with an uncontrolled, goofy grin quite unlike any she had seen on her face before. ‘I know he would, wouldn’t you?’

‘Course I would,’ he said hoarsely.

‘Yes,’ sighed Mrs Weasley. Another contraction came, and Mr Weasley helped her breath through it, looking intently into her face while Ada placed her hand on the firm stomach, then applied a pinard horn.

‘Heartbeat is fine,’ she assured them, when the contraction had passed. ‘You’re doing well.’

After another hour, the potion was starting to wear off, the silliness vanishing, Mrs Granger-Weasley groaning loudly once more, strands of her hair starting to cling to her face. Mr Weasley was murmuring to her, his expression still pale and tense, but she was leaning gratefully into his hand as he massaged her lower back.

Mrs Granger-Weasley panted up at Ada. ‘Bet Ginny didn’t make such a fuss, did she?’

Ada laughed. ‘It’s not a competition! You make as much fuss as you want.’

Ada had been called to the house in the dead of night, but an entire day seemed to have passed and the windows were darkening as dusk fell. As Ada checked Mrs Granger-Weasley once more, Mr Weasley, exhausted and no doubt aching, paced the room, stretching his arms. He glanced out the window.

‘Oh, bloody hell. There’s press loitering outside.’

‘I admire their dedication,’ said Mrs Granger-Weasley faintly. ‘I certainly wouldn’t be hanging around for this long - I’d be completely exhausted.’

Mr Weasley gave a bark of laughter, and Ada smiled too, pulling back from between Mrs Granger-Weasley’s legs. ‘I think we’re ready to go,’ Ada told them brightly. ‘Still happy to go ahead with the charm, Hermione?’

Hermione nodded, but it was Mr Weasley who spoke, rushing back to the bed. ‘Yes - please - do the charm.’

Ada did so, her wand pressed against Mrs Granger-Weasley’s hip.

‘Ron,’ said Hermione, looking up at him in awe. ‘I don’t feel a thing.’

‘Really?’

‘I mean… I… it doesn’t hurt.’

He let out a loud sigh of relief, kissing her head. ‘I’m so glad it worked, he mumbled into her hair. ‘I couldn’t stand you being… I’m glad it’s OK.’

Of course it is,’ she was saying tenderly, and to Ada’s surprise, she was reaching up to caress his face. ‘Of course it’s all right,’ she was murmuring. I told you it would be, I told you I’d be fine.’

‘OK, Hermione, I’m going to tell you when to push, all right?’ said Ada clearly. ‘It won’t be long now, baby is almost here. A couple more hours, probably.’

‘A couple more hours?’ she shrieked.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘You’re right, Hermione, the little sod takes after me.’

‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I can’t feel anything below the waist now, so it’s fine.’

It was fine. Pain gone from the room, the three of them were instead free to intersperse the contractions with jokes and speculations on the laziness of the baby and whether it would follow through in life, discussions on who to tell first and how, gentle last-minute debates on names.

Finally, Ada was telling Mrs Granger-Weasley, ‘one more big push, as big as you can, come on, Hermione!’

Mr Weasley was torn between kissing the side of his wife’s head as she pushed, and leaning over her knees to look. ‘I can see the head,’ he was babbling. ‘Hermione! I can - fuck - Hermione, I can see-’

He bounced back and forth in his dizzied, delirious excitement, that swell of uncontrolled, innate emotion that Ada loved so much, the best part of her job, and then finally…

A moment of silence, and splutter, and then a powerfully loud, squalling cry.

‘Congratulations,’ Ada said. ‘You have a little girl. With mighty lungs on her.’

‘A daughter! A daughter, Hermione! A little girl!’ Mr Weasley was shouting. ‘Look! Look, Hermione! Look at her!’

Ada passed the squirming baby quickly onto Mrs Granger-Weasley’s chest; she gasped and stared at her with wide eyes, brushing the still grimy head and looking into the screaming, red face. ‘Hello,’ she was murmuring. ‘Hello you, clever girl - we’ve been waiting ages. Hello.’

‘She’s beautiful, she’s perfect,’ Mr Weasley was saying, wiping impatiently at his eyes so that he could stare at his new daughter.

‘Mr Weasley, would you like to cut the cord?’

‘Yes - yes-’

‘Well done,’ Ada whispered to him, as he cut it. He glanced up. ‘I know it was hard to see,’ she said. ‘But look now.’

‘Yes,’ he breathed, looking back at his family. ‘Yes - look now.’

**Author's Note:**

> There may be future chapters about other moments/couples, but I can't guarantee they'll be in the right order!


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